Page 4 of Forever Flames: Padraig & Stevie
“Nice of you to show up,” Liam mutters, kicking his heel off the bottom of her locker.
Stevie flashes him a too-bright smile. Swings the door shut with her hip like she owns the place. “Aww, you missed me grump-a-lumps.”
“We were supposed to peace out last period,” he directs his comment toward me.
I glance up at him. “I had chemistry.”
“You were going to ditch me?” Stevie rolls her eyes, reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a crinkled letter. “Oh, and by the way. I applied to Wazzu. You’re not getting rid of me yet, Liam.”
His face doesn’t change. Other than the tiniest twitch at the edge of his mouth. He’s not mad at her. He’s mad at the world and how fucked up everything is.
“Congrats,” he sneers.
Undaunted, she turns to me and tugs on my sleeve, eyes shining. “Well?”
“Fuck yeah.” Unlike Liam, my heart fills to the brim. Full of a thousand possibilities I can’t name. “Let’s keep the party going.”
“Can we get outta here?” Liam growls.
Stevie flips him off, loops her arm through mine and drags me toward the doors. He follows, slowly. A shadow trailing at the edge.
Outside, Da’s original McGloughlin Construction truck with the dented fender sits crooked across the white line. This morning, we were pathetically late so it was more of an abandonment than a parking job.
Stevie yanks open the passenger door and climbs in without hesitation. Middle seat. Liam slides into the driver’s seat, slamming the door hard enough to shake the frame. I take my place on the passenger side.
Stevie wiggles to get comfortable, settling back against the seat with my sketchbook jammed between her knees, causing her leg to press against mine. I don’t move. Don’t breathe. When we turn on to our street, she leans forward to adjust the vent. Her vanilla scent surrounds me.
“Mom made spaghetti.” Stevie glances between us. “And brownies. You should come over. Bring the boys.”
“Nah, I’ve got a thing,” Liam scoffs as the truck creaks to a stop in front of our house which is next door to Stevie’s. “Get the fuck out, kids. I’m taking the truck.”
He doesn’t wait for approval. The second our feet hit the ground, Liam peels out, gravel pinging the curb.
Stevie stands beside me, arms around my sketchbook like a shield. She’s not looking at her house. She’s looking at me.
“Dinner?” Her voice tilts. Hopes. “You can draw a bit in peace.”
I’m not letting an opportunity to hang out with her slip by. “Aye. First, I should eat with the lads. I’ll come over after they’re settled.”
“Makes sense.” Stevie abruptly turns toward the steps to her house.
Shit. Three steps and I’m beside her again. “Wait.”
She freezes. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t run, either.
I catch her wrist. Light. Careful.
She turns halfway and her brown eyes peer up at me. Before I can stop myself, my lips graze hers. Not soft. Or gentle. Every ounce of pent-up sexual frustration I’ve kept at bay is unleashed.
Screw the friend-zone. I want Stevie in the fuck-zone.
My tongue twines with hers. My sketchbook hits the porch with a slap when she wraps her arms around my neck. My hands find her waist, then her back, then up into her hair. Every part of her burns into me.
After a moment, I pull away, barely enough to check in on her. “You good with this?”
“Wow. Padraig. Are you sure?” she pants, pink-cheeked, eyes wide.
“Fuck, yeah I’m sure, Stevie. I’ve been waiting to kiss you forever.” I press my forehead against hers. “Since the day you wore the American flag bikini at the Fourth of July barbecue.”
